Turn On the Light
by Roxxi May
Summary: George and Luna's friendship and adventures, beginning with how she saved him during Battle of Hogwarts, and continuing as they grow closer and remember to find happiness in the darkest times. GW/LL friendship, eventually romance.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Well, well. Here we are. I haven't written a Harry Potter fanfiction in three years (back when I shipped Harry/Hermione), when I very first started writing. Getting bored with my other fandoms, and renewing my love for the series via the last movie, I fell in LOVE with the George/Luna pairing. Seems so perfect, natural, and possible. I couldn't resist, I had to write one.**

**Take note, it's been quite a long time since I read the books, so there might be some slight inaccuracies. I've skimmed through Deathly Hallows to refresh my memory, but to be safe I just wrote this chapter based on how it went down in the movie. Also, I'm American (sadly) but I'm trying to write it using English-like terms (the metric system!).**

**So, put your Suspension-Of-Disbelief caps on and enjoy! ;)**

* * *

><p>Currently, there was a lull in the action. They had fought the Death Eaters back for the time being, and everyone used the pause to tend to the wounded and collect the dead. Luna Lovegood, however, refused to put her wand away. It gave her comfort, something to hold on to. So many of the people all around her were either dead or rather close to it.<p>

_Everyone in the world will be able to see thestrals at this rate, _she thought to herself.

Her clothes were battered, mud-caked, and ripped. Rusty-red splotches of blood mixed with dirt stained her pink sneakers.

Everyone in the ruins that used to be the magnificent Great Hall was eerily calm, including Luna herself. Students and staff of Hogwarts offered minor comfort to one another, mostly looking drained and in shock. Floating through the atmosphere was the murmur of people softly conversing, and some sniffles from those either in physical pain or grief-afflicted.

Luna heard running footsteps approaching from behind her. She turned around to see who was coming, and saw none other than George Weasley frantically sprinting to the other end of the Hall, where the rest of his red-haired family had gathered. He shoved her out of the way, but not hard enough to make her fall. Luna then noticed two members of the Weasley family that were absent from the huddle—Ron (who was off fighting alongside Harry), and George's identical twin Fred.

"_Freddie! No! No, Freddie, no!" _George screamed upon reaching his family. His loud voice pierced through the quiet murmurs in the Hall. Everyone went silent, even paused their own sobbing, as the remaining Weasley Twin collapsed to his knees near his brother's head. George heaved out lung-fulls of voice-broken sobs. Mrs. Weasley also knelt at Fred's side, muffling her crying in his shirt. The rest of the family stood gathered around, rocking on their toes, shaking their heads, and burying their faces in their hands.

Luna remained frozen in the spot George had pushed her to, staring with a lump steadily converging in her throat. She was bombarded with memories of the twins, specifically at the Dumbledore's Army meetings. They really did deserve their reputation as being tricksters, but were clever and skillful wizards all the same. She always admired them for their fearlessness, and their jokes perfectly tickled her sense of humor. They never picked on her the way she thought they might've. The most curious thing, though, was how she found she actually _cared _what they thought of her, something she never bothered about with anyone else. She wanted them to be proud of her, fond of her, impressed by her. She remembered one particular instance where she had been paired up to duel Fred, but suddenly was overcome with fear that if she cast the _Stupefy _curse at him at hurt him, both the twins would be angry with her. So, she let him stun her, and to her red-faced surprise, they both rushed over to help her up.

It tore her apart in this moment, to see one of the endearing twins motionless on the ground, and the other collapsing into pieces right before her eyes.

She had seen a lot of killing curses thrown and gory injuries throughout the battle, but this was the first that truly disturbed her, knowing she was witnessing a young man having his entire world stripped away while she could do nothing. A part of her wanted to run over and give him a hug, to try and hold her friend together, but she knew it was no use. Her father had attempted to do the same after her mum died, but it did little to comfort her. Also, she would feel as if she were impolitely intruding on the Weasley family, to lodge herself into such an emotional situation.

Soon, Harry, Ron, and Hermione arrived in the Hall as well. Ron hurried over to the Weasley queue, where George passionately threw his arms around him, fresh sobs tearing from the older brother's throat.

Luna realized then how long she'd been staring. She turned and walked in the opposite direction of the mourning family, located a fellow Ravenclaw student, and offered to help him tend the wound on his shoulder. This boy she hardly knew, but it would be something to distract her from her building nausea.

"It's not fair at all, is it?" the boy sniffled. He looked to be in about the fourth year.

"No, no it is not," she answered, waving her wand to clear up some of the dried blood.

"You were in the DA with them, weren't you?"

Luna swallowed; pretended to be incredulous. "Who's 'them?'"

"You know who I'm talking about—the Weasley twins. One has been killed, hasn't he? I can't see very well over there; I've lost my glasses."

It was taking everything she had to remain level-headed. "Yes, unfortunately. It's Fred that died. But I didn't know them," Luna asserted. "Not very well. But let's focus on making you better right now, okay? It's all we can do. _Episkey_." The boy's wound reduced to a small pink mark on his skin. Looking around, she noticed that the Trio had gone.

Across the Hall, she caught sight of Neville Longbottom limping across the courtyard. Luna stood and began walking closer. She could see figures approaching in the distance—a giant processional. Fear seized her. It appeared as though the Death Eaters were returning for another fight.

###

Luna only had a few moments to revel in how beautiful Neville's speech was, to let it sink into her skin and touch her heart. If she could've seen George Weasley in the enormous crowed, she would have looked for his reaction. But the calm only lasted a fraction of second.

Harry Potter tumbled out of Hagrid's arms and sprung to life. Just like that, everything erupted and the battle resumed at full force. The opposing groups charged at each other, and Luna cast a _Stupefy_ curse at a young blonde female Death Eater. Turning around, she noticed a flash of long gray hair being pursued by a shock of orange hair. The Death Eater cackled hysterically as if they were playing a child's game. He turned around for a split moment to stick out his tongue at the redhead. Luna recognized him immediately from a newspaper article—Augustus Rookwood. The redheaded man sent a burst of flames from the tip of his wand, but missed in all his distraught emotion, and Rookwood skillfully dodged and continued running.

Luna's body snapped back into motion. She had to help him. "George!" she cried and took off in pursuit of both of them. She followed them down a dark, destroyed hallway. George kept lobbing curses and Rookwood kept dodging.

Rookwood laughed again. "I killed Fred Weasley!" he mocked in a sing-song voice. "And his twin wasn't around to save him! Ha, ha!"

"_I'll kill you!" _George bellowed. He quickened his pace, if that was even possible. Luna trailed a good forty meters behind them, her non-athletic body tiring, unsure of how much longer she could sprint like this. George steadily caught up to Rookwood. He had drawn his wand back to throw a curse when his ankle caught under a piece of debris, and his body went sailing forward through the air. He hit the ground with a gruesome _smack_. His wand flew from his hand and soared at least five meters ahead of him before landing with a hollow clatter.

Rookwood skidded to a stop and turned to behold his tripped opponent. Gravelly, sadistic laughter trickled out of his throat. He approached George's wand and kicked it even farther away.

"Stupid, clumsy weasel," he growled. George feebly lifted his head, trying to take in a breath after having the wind knocked out of him. He finally sucked in a hoarse, high-pitched gasp and expelled it by saying:

"I surrender. Go ahead. Kill me." Another gasp. "I want to die. You can have the honor of—" (a gasp) "—taking us both out."

Rookwood grinned and began to lift his wand.

Luna shrieked, _"No!"_ as she finally caught up to them._"Expelliarmus!" _Rookwood's wand was knocked out of his hand.

"Would you look at that, Weasel! Your girlfriend's come to save your pathetic arse!"

Luna's anger reached fever pitch. She collected all the fury in her petite body and yelled, _"Stupefy!" _The spell was strong enough to knock Rookwood unconscious, which gave her at least enough time to help George up and get his wand back.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her dazedly as she grabbed his arm and put it around her shoulder to help him stand. He was able to support himself, but walked with a severe limp on the foot that he'd tripped on; he could hardly put any weight on it before he yelped in pain. Without waiting for her to answer, he said, "You're sort of brilliant. You saved my life." He seemed to have forgotten that just a minute before he'd requested that Rookwood kill him.

"I _had_ to. I could not stand to see another one of my friends die…_Accio George's wand!" _She caught it just before it soared into her face and handed it to its owner.

A faint, low grumble came from where Rookwood lay unconscious. "He's waking," said George. He limped very slowly toward the gray-haired man and pointed his wand at him, poised to strike when he woke.

"George! Wait!" Luna called after him, cautiously approaching the two wizards. "Please don't use any of the Unforgivables."

"Why shouldn't I?" he demanded. "He deserves it! He used one on my twin brother and was about to use one on me!"

She took another step forward, holding her hands up in a non-threatening fashion. "Because I know you're better than that. You're not a criminal like he is. There's plenty of other spells you can use."

He glared at her with flooded eyes. The first sob came from deep within his abdomen. He loosened his death-grip on the handle of his wand and let his arm go limp at his side. "But, Luna, he killed Fred. He murdered my Freddie!"

"I know that. But, in all honesty, will killing him or using the Cruciartus curse make you feel all that better? Here, I know, let's put him in a body-binding curse and, when this is all over, turn him in to be sent to Azkaban. It's the more noble thing to do, and you know it."

George steadied his crying long enough to spit out, _"Petrificus totalus." _Rookwood's arms snapped to his sides and his legs bound together.

Luna held open her arms and he leaned into them without bothering to return the hug. He cried into her shoulder while she rubbed her hand in circles between his bony shoulder blades. "Shh, it's okay. I'm proud of you. You did what was best. And I bet Fred would be proud of you, too." She pulled away slightly, set her hands on his face, and spoke directly to him, "Now. Why don't you sit down and I'll see if I can fix your leg." She guided him to the edge of the hallway, where he gingerly slid to the floor and rested his back against the stone wall.

He winced as she pulled up his pant leg, and whimpered in pain when she pulled off his shoe and sock. His ankle was swollen and lightly bruised. "It looks like a sprain," Luna said. "But it doesn't look _too _severe. I should be able to fix it quite easily. _Episkey." _The swelling instantly deflated and the bruises disappeared. She gently pressed her fingers to his ankle and asked if it hurt. He shook his head.

Luna was busy tying his shoe back up when a booming male voice appeared from around the corner. "There you two are!"

George and Luna turned their heads to the source and locked eyes with Aberforth Dumbledore.

"The battle is over," he continued. "Harry Potter has defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort. The Death Eaters are being captured and sent to Azkaban as we speak. And Mr. Weasley here has a very worried family who would like to see him returned safely. We've been looking all around for you two."

Luna used a quick charm to clean George's face and hands of blood and filth before they both stood. They were too exhausted and numb to react to the news.

Aberforth stepped closer. He examined Rookwood's perfectly stiff body. "It appears you have captured a Death Eater on your own. I'll take care of him. You both best get back to the Great Hall and rejoin your family and friends." He raised his wand and levitated Rookwood's body.

George and Luna walked in silence back to the Hall. He was greeted with tearful, bone-crushing hugs of his family. She found Neville sitting on a bench and struck up a conversation with him. They exchanged weak smiles with each other.

"So," Neville said nervously, "you fought alongside George Weasley, did you?"

"Yes. I helped him defeat the Death Eater who played a part in his twin's death. It was quite emotional. But we're both okay."

"I hope he knows that just because Harry woke up doesn't mean that my speech was worthless. Maybe we should, I dunno, go tell him or something."

Luna patted Neville's hand. "That's very kind of you. But I think we best leave him alone for now. His family is taking care of him."


	2. Chapter 2

_July 10, 1998_

Multiple people crammed themselves into the living room at the Burrow, as was usual for every morning except Sunday. Ron, Ginny, Bill, Percy, Harry, Hermione, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gathered there in a circle. Their faces held all held the same uncomfortable, somber expression.

"Well," began Hermione with a clearing of her throat, "I believe it's my turn today. But, before I leave, I thought I'd bring an idea to the table."

"Anything, Hermione-dear, anything," said Mrs. Weasley.

Hermione stepped to the middle of the circle and nervously pitched her idea, "It's been just a little over two months since the war. We've all done remarkably well, recuperating. All except for one of us, that is. We've been meeting here every morning since the funeral to decide who gets to face the brutal task of making sure that George is okay. Make sure that he's eating, showering, breathing…and every day it's the same. We find him curled up in bed with the lights off, curtains pulled, mirrors covered or broken. We find that he's just a little bit paler than he was last time we were there, a little bit skinnier, a little more lifeless. What I'm saying is, we need to think of something new. Because what we've been doing is obviously not helping. We could force him to move back here, but he'll resent us even more for smothering him. We could stick him in St. Mungo's, where they'd treat him like a nutcase. Or, we could enlist the help of someone new…"

Ginny spoke up, "I think I know where you're going with this, Hermione." She thought back to the day of the Battle, of how shocked she was when she saw her distraught brother emerge from a hallway with one of her best friends. "Luna Lovegood," she breathed.

"That's right," said Hermione. "We all know what George told us, about how they fought Rookwood side-by-side that day. As far as I know, they haven't spoken since then. Maybe it would benefit him if they…reconnected."

Harry piped up, "I say we give it a go. We need to explore other options."

"And Luna is naturally good with people," said Ginny. "Particularly people who are hurting."

"So that's that, then." Hermione clapped her hands together. "I'll Apparate over to her house right now and ask her myself."

###

Luna sat alone in the living room of her house, reading a muggle Anatomy textbook and drinking tea. The house had felt rather lonely since her father left for his trip, but she'd sort of grown to enjoy the silence and the feeling of being grown up and self-sufficient.

One thing she very rarely got was visitors. And on those occasions, most were people stopping by to see her father without knowing he'd gone abroad. So, she did not think much of it when she heard three soft knocks at the front door.

She opened the door to find that this guest was indeed for her, this time. "Oh, good morning, Hermione Granger," she said politely. "What a surprise. A good one, though. Please, come in—it's nice and cool in the house."

The girls did not sit down right away; they stood awkwardly in the entryway, Luna brandishing a kind smile and Hermione staring at her feet with a somber expression. Luna said at last, "I don't mean to be rude by asking, but what brings Hermione Granger to my house on this gloomy morning? You look quite nervous. Is there something wrong?" She noticed that Hermione held a piece of folded parchment in her hands.

"Um—no, nothing's wrong. Not with me, at least. I've actually come to ask you a favor, if you have time."

"Oh, believe me, I have plenty of time on my hands. With my father gone to Norway to research their magical forest creatures, there's really not much I do besides take care of the house. Did you know that Norwegian wizards refer to Quidditch as 'Rumpeldunk?'"

"No, Luna, that's very interesting. But I was wondering…do you remember the Battle of Hogwarts? How you helped defeat the Death Eater Augustus Rookwood?"

A knot twisted itself in Luna's chest. Of course she remembered, how could she forget? She thought about it daily, repeated the scenes over in her head, wondered if she really _had _done the right thing by sending Rookwood to Azkaban instead of allowing George Weasley to kill him. She spent her nights awake in bed wishing she'd said a proper goodbye to him before they went their separate ways after the battle.

"This has something to do with _him_, hasn't it?" she inquired, not accusingly, but with innocent curiosity.

Hermione exhaled. "Yes, it does. You have every right to decline, but his family and I were wondering if maybe you would…go and visit him. Today. As soon as possible. You see, he hasn't been doing well since he lost Fred. We've tried everything. We take turns going there every day to see if he's all right. I thought maybe you could go this time. Maybe he would…benefit from seeing you. After all, you do know what it's like to suffer a loss and learn to heal."

Luna took only a split second to consider it. Then she nodded slowly. "I will."

"Thank you so much, Luna. Really, you have no idea how much this means—we're all just so worried and so desperate—"

In a sincere gesture, Luna took gentle hold of Hermione's wrists. "It's my pleasure. I'd love to help."

Hermione chewed her lower lip and nodded. She turned to head out the door, then suddenly remembered the folded paper in her hands. "Oh, and one more thing. Take this." She handed Luna the parchment. "It has some tips. You might need them when you go over there." Then she turned and walked out the door without saying goodbye.  
>"Bye, Hermione," Luna whispered to the empty house. Hermione's last words disturbed her. Was he really in such a bad state, that she would need tips to aid her? Like reading instructions for making a potion? She unfolded up the paper in her hands.<p>

_Knock on the door and wait for an answer. Wait sixty seconds._

_If he does not answer, enter the flat yourself._

_If the door is locked, unlock it using Alohomora._

_If he's asleep, wake him._

_Encourage him to bathe, eat, and drink._

_If the place is a mess, help him clean it._

_Finally, above all, don't cry._

Luna turned this list over in her head for a long moment. It did not seem right to her. Something told her that they were using too much force. Practically breaking into his home, forcing him out of his sleep—a period of painlessness—and forcing him into this sort of daily routine of being forced. Yes, they were making sure he was taking care of himself, and they were well-meaning, but what were they doing for him emotionally? Why in the world _shouldn't _they cry in front of him, or at least with him?

The first three tips were the only ones that Luna thought would be of use to her. She would do the rest according to her _own _judgment.

She crumpled the paper in her small, pale hands and tossed it carelessly into the remaining glowing cinders in the fireplace. Having recently turned seventeen, she could use magic on her own and had passed her Apparition test with a near-perfect score. Apparating was her one of her favorite magical abilities. Everyone always found it to be nauseating at first, but Luna found the swooping sensation in her belly rather exciting.

She took her wand from where it sat next to the tea pot, and Apparated to 93 Diagon Alley.

###

The bare wooden floorboards in the meager hallway outside the flat creaked as she walked across them. Combined with the _clap, clap, clap _of her purple sneakers, the noises made her uneasy. She poised herself in front of the door, then raised her fist. Hesitating, she lowered her hand and first pressed her ear to the door. Complete silence. With a deep breath, she swallowed her fear and gave three steady knocks on the door.

As she suspected, no answer.

"George Weasley," she called gently with three more knocks."It's Luna Lovegood. Remember me? From Dumbledore's Army. I…I've come to see you." Knock, knock, knock. "Please let me in. I really don't want to break in. George Fabian Weasley!" Nothing. Luna decided to give him one last chance.

After a final series of knocks, then she waited precisely sixty seconds, as Hermione's instructions said. Still there was no answer. With a rueful sigh, she drew her wand from the pocket in the inside lining of her coat. She aimed the tip at the doorknob and tapped it thrice. _"Alohomora," _she murmured. The lock slid open and Luna turned the knob slowly, quietly, aware of the sound of her own breath.

Inside the flat, a rush of cold bit her nose. Despite the summer temperatures outside, the atmosphere inside was frigid. In the air lingered a faint unpleasant smell. An odor of sweat, stale breath, and misery. The main area of the apartment wasn't a complete wreck, but it was not tidy either. Dishes lay undone in the kitchen sink, couch pillows were strewn around the living room floor, and, peaking in the bathroom, Luna noticed the mirror had been covered with a bath towel tacked to the wall around it.

_George must be in his bedroom, _she thought. But she really did not want to disturb his sleep. She remembered treasuring every second of it she got when her mum had recently died. Especially if it was dreamless. Just herself, floating in a dark abyss, no world, no grief. But sometimes, the nightmares would creep in. That was when she began sneaking into Daddy's potion cabinet for a few drops of sleeping elixir. Just enough to make the bad dreams go away. Now, examining the kitchen once more, Luna found an empty container of the exact same mixture. George obviously took much more than just four or five drops.

Looking at the time, Luna decided that she really had nothing else to do today, so she would stay as long as she needed to. She would stay until George woke up on his own, and after that, as long as he wanted her to stay until he got tired of her and kicked her out.

For a good hour she busied herself by cleaning the flat, without magic, until it was immaculate. She fluffed and rearranged the couch pillows so they were plump and symmetrical. She scrubbed the dishes until they shone like a Snitch, and stacked them back in the cupboards.

Another half hour passed and she began to feel impatient, worried. Mustering a bit of courage, she decided to have a peak in George's bedroom to make sure nothing was seriously wrong.

He huddled under his thick comforter, curled up tightly. His face and most of his body was hidden by the blankets, but Luna could see a naked, bone-white, freckled shoulder peeking out, as well as the bright orange of his hair. In a sudden wave of emotion, she walked to the edge of his bed and before she could think the better of it, her hand affectionately stroked over his tangled hair. She withdrew her hand swiftly, but George's eyelids began to twitch and soon he was staring straight up at her, his expression unreadable.

"I'm so sorry," she breathed.

He blinked a few times and confusedly examined her face. "Luna? What are _you _doing here?" His hoarse voice was barely above a whisper.

Luna relaxed her tense shoulders and explained in a calm voice that wouldn't startle him anymore in his bleary state. "I'm here on behalf of your family and friends. They thought I should visit you. I'm not quite sure why, though. But I do want to help."

He rubbed his eyes and sat up in bed. Quickly realizing he was not wearing a shirt, he lifted the comforter up in front of him to cover his slender torso in embarrassment.

"Here." Luna boldly rummaged through his dresser drawers, and tossed a plum-colored shirt and tan pants at him. She turned to face the wall and pressed her palms against her eyes for extra good measure. Once she'd heard him zip the pants, she turned back around with a sweet smile. "That's better," she said.

He continued to stare at her with blank, emotionless eyes. His expression hadn't moved a bit since she tossed him the clothes.

She felt a bit like she was playing a game of chess. All about strategy, cleverly planning your next move based on your opponent's actions. She tried, "See? That was easier than I thought. Getting you out of bed and dressed. I don't know why _they _think you're so difficult. You just need the right sort of approach. I promise I'll try not to be as bossy as them. They like to boss you around, don't they?"

George sat back down on the bed and stared irritably at the floor. "Every bloody day, they do."

She sat next to him, about six inches away, and kept her hands folded in her lap. "They sent me here because I've known death. I know what it's like."

"No, you _don't_."

"That's exactly what I thought. Losing a mum and losing a twin brother—_identical_ twin at that—are two completely different things. But maybe you could _make _me understand better, if you told me about it. You can trust me to listen. I won't interrupt, or tell anyone."

After considering this for a moment, he let out a breath. Luna knew she'd won at least a sliver of his trust. He gave a wet sniffle and pressed his fists over his eye sockets. He croaked, "We were the same."

"It's okay if you want to cry," Luna murmured, "I'm not afraid of crying. It's only natural."

"But I'm a grown man! Twenty years old!"  
>"Sadness does not discriminate between age or gender, George."<p>

His hands went to his hair, his face red and twisted in anguish. Between clenched teeth, he said, "We'd never spent a full day apart. Never been a mile between us."

There was a pause in the speech as the first sob crawled out of his throat with a shudder. The tears came at full force; discharge leaked from his nose. Luna was not wavered at all by this, as sometimes the messier the cry, the more effective it is. In fact, she was a bit charmed, in a bizarre way, at the emotion that gushed forth from this former joker, the class clown that always had a smile plastered to his face.

She noticed him shrinking away from her as his sobs got heavier. "I'm not going to touch you, George. Not unless you want me to. I know that when my mum first died, my daddy wanted to hold and cuddle me all the time, but it only made me more sad. Made me want to cry worse. So if you want me to touch you, just touch me first. Only then, I promise."

His crying halted at once. He removed his hands from his face and stared straight at her with his bloodshot, watery eyes, biting his trembling lip. "You…" he began, but never finished. Gradually, he inched himself closer to her. When their knees were just barely touching, he whispered, "I hope you don't mind…" He leaned into her, and she laid her head on his shoulder and he laid his head on hers. Luna felt a tear soak into her hair, dampening her scalp. Their hands, however, remained to themselves.

"You know a little more than I thought you would," he finished at last.

They remained like this for a few minutes. Luna's head fell in a rather ideal spot on his shoulder, where she could faintly hear his heart, and his breathing, and smell his scent. While he did not smell like a rose garden, she hardly minded it. He only smelled human to her.

At last, she pulled away from him and stood. Offering her hand out to help him up, she said, "Here. How about I make you something to eat? I've gotten quite good at cooking recently, since my dad's been on vacation. I could make anything you want. And while I cook, you could take a bath. How about a nice, deep, hot one, with lots and lots of bubbles? It's so relaxing."

"I don't want to fight you," was all he said in reply. He did not take her hand, only helped himself up. He followed her into the kitchen, where he said, "I'm afraid I don't have much in here for you to work with."

"Well, out of what you have here, I'll make anything you want. Just say what—"

"How about you just surprise me? Only, I don't have any knives. _Real _knives. Only butter knives. They took all my other ones away."

"_Why?"_

"They thought I might try and…off myself with 'em. Apparently it's a thing, more common among Muggles than wizards. They like to draw their own blood, cut themselves up, to try and ease emotional pain. Dad heard of it, and they all thought…"

Luna tried not to seem as outraged as she was. After all, they were well-meaning. They only did what they thought was best. It wasn't their fault. Still, she said, "That _is_ a bit absurd. Why don't you just get in the bath, make it nice and long, and I'll think of something." She marched into the bathroom and turned the faucet until the tub was almost overflowing with warm, steamy water and mountains of floral-scented suds. "There you go, fit for a wizard king…"

"Thanks," he mumbled.

She spun around girlishly on her heel, then walked back to the kitchen.

###

Sunset had fallen in the sky around them. Light of an astounding orange hue leaked through the kitchen window where Luna and George had been sitting in silence for a very long time. There had been occasional words, occasional tears—from both of them—but mostly silence, and the simple appreciation of each other's company.

When Luna finally stood up from her chair to leave, George got up and followed her to the doorway.

"Come again," he said politely, almost as if not aware he was saying it. Immediately he blushed. "I mean, only if you want to. It's—I mean, today was one of the easier days, since I lost him. My family was right about you, not exactly in the ways they thought, but still."

"Oh, no, it's my pleasure. It was nice to spend time with you as well, since I've spent the better part of two weeks alone at home. I'll see you sometime. Bye, George."

"Bye, Luna."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Nothing much to say here, except you can probably tell that I'm going to make the relationship happen faster than I normally would, simply because I don't want this to be a huge 20-chapter story. Thought I'd point that out, considering I was rolling my eyes at myself for how fast it seems to be going so far. Forgive please :)<strong>

**And, reviews keep the Nargles away ;)**


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